


A Sad Day at the Weasley's

by childofmischief



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Self Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:35:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27594226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/childofmischief/pseuds/childofmischief
Summary: After the war, you start spending a lot of time at the Weasley's, so much so you now have a bedroom there. You can hardly bear to look George in the eyes some days, the memory of Fred too painful. 6 months after the war, you wake up after a dream about Fred.Any gender character. Gender neutral pronouns used. Fred Weasley x reader.Cross posted on Wattpad.
Relationships: Fred Weasley/Reader
Kudos: 12





	A Sad Day at the Weasley's

**Author's Note:**

> As stated in the summary, the pronouns used for the reader are gender neutral so everyone feels included!

_He smiled, that stupid, mischievous and attractive smile. Even in the middle of a war, he made your stomach fill with butterflies at the sight of him. "I love you." He whispered, staring off into the night sky._

_"I love you too." You said back, a soft smile spreading across your lips. He leaned in, before the scene suddenly changed. The wall you were stood next to exploded, and Fred, who was laughing fell to the ground, motionless, his last laugh still etched on his face._

You wake up, the morning sun streaming in from the window by the end of your bed. For a second, your heart beat feels like it will beat out of your chest. Tears come to your eyes and a small cry comes out of your throat. You lay on the little bed, Fred's old quilt wrapped around you. Most days, you can barely get out of bed. But most days you don't dream at all. How can you get out of bed when you can only think of him?

Eventually, Molly Weasley knocks at your door, and tells you breakfasts ready. Your stomach growled, and you pushed yourself out of bed, rubbing at your tired eyes. On wobbly legs, you walked to the dresser, and pulled out one of Fred's old hoodies. It had started to loose his scent, but still faintly smelled like a campfire.

You make your way down the stairs, where you find the Weasley's, Harry and Hermione settling into the table. You sit furthest from George, the painful memory of Fred's still body fresh. You pour yourself some coffee, hoping the caffeine will push away the dream. Lately, George has had at that empty stare on his face, and was, only now, thinking about opening the joke shop up again. He expressed how it felt weird to do it without Fred, so Ron stepped up and agreed to help him.

You know it's good for him, but you still can't think of anyone else taking Fred's place without your stomach churning. Molly places two over-easy eggs and a few pieces of bacon on your plate. She placed some toast next to you. "Eat up, y/n. You look hungry." She smiled, and went around the rest of the table giving everyone some food.

On days like these, you kept your head down. George was more sensitive than ever now. It made sense, you didn't blame him for it. You had both suffered a greater loss than either of you could've imagined. Despite being hungry, you couldn't really bear to push down your breakfast, as you could feel George's eyes on you. You took a deep a breath as you could, trying to pushing down your anxiety. 

George continued to stare at you. Uncontrollable anger started to course through your veins, your fists clenching underneath the table. "What?!" You yelled, glaring at George. "What is your problem, George?"

At first, he was speechless, staring blankly at you, as though he was so offended that he didn't think that sort of outburst was possible from you. Then, his face contorted into an anger you had never seen from him. "Why can't you look at me, y/n?!" He screamed, the whole table feeling as though it was shaking just as much as he was. "Is it because I look like Fred?!" He demanded. 

You put your head low, trying to push back the angry onslaught of tear trying to force their way out of your eyes. George stood, trying to walk away but before he can, you respond. "I'm sorry." You cry, wiping away tears. You look up at him. "I can't look at you without see him. I can't sleep without seeing him. I can't do anything without thinking about him."

"I can't look at myself without seeing Fred, y/n!" He yelled. "I have to live without someone I've never known life without!" 

A sob ripped out of you throat, and you stood. "I'm sorry, George." You ran up the stairs, and slammed the door to your bedroom. Downstairs, you could hear Ron. "They're grieving too." He said. "And that's okay." 

You knew you couldn't get to mad at George. Deep down, he was still the fun, loving person you knew. Fred was always the light of his life. Fred was the one who was always more outgoing and he was always the one who came up with who to prank. You collapsed onto your bed, and started sobbing into your pillow. You clutched Fred's sweater, curling into it. 

A knock came at your door, and you instantly recognized it as Molly Weasley. "y/n? Can I come in?" You wiped away your tears, your chest still heaving. You open the door, but can still not bear to look anyone in the eyes. "Hello, honey." Molly said softly, coming to sit next to you on your bed. She pulled you into one of her motherly warm hugs. You couldn't help but start sobbing into her shoulder, hugging her harder than you have ever hugged anyone before. She started rubbing your back to try to calm you down. "It's alright dear." She whispered. 

In time you calmed down, and you pulled away from Molly, wiping at your eyes. You took in a deep shaky breath. "I'm sorry for freaking out." You said. 

"It's okay." Molly said, as she passed you a tissue. "I'd rather everyone in this house scream at each other than bottle up everything." That made you laugh. 

"Thank you." You sighed, and stood up. "I ought to go to talk to George, haven't I?" Molly nodded and the two of you left your room. George was sitting outside, pulling the grass out of the ground next to him. Even though you couldn't see his face, you know he had been crying. You went outside, and sat next to him.

"Hey George." You whispered, looking at the tall, lanky boy next to you. "I wanted to come out here to say I'm sorry."

George looked at you for a moment, then looked back down at the grass he was picking out of the ground. "Don't be." He said, quietly, his brown eyes meeting yours. "God I feel like I just took a puking pastille and forgot to take the purple end." 

Both of you shared a laugh, for the first time in 6 months, you saw him happy. He looked up at the sky, at the clear blue sky. "When we were kids, we always played quidditch on a day like this." He smiled. "Fred always said you were awful at quidditch." 

You rolled your eyes. "I'm not very good at sports in general." You admitted. "Both wizard and muggle sports."

With that, a glint started to shine in George's eyes. "You've never been good at any sports?" He asked, that mischievous smirk that Fred used to have on his face. 

"I don't like where this is going." You said, quirking an eyebrow at him. "Whatever you ask of me, I'm going to say no." George laughed, and stood up, offering his hand to you. With his help you also stood, squinting at him. "I don't trust this." 

"Aw, I'm not that bad!" George said, jogging across the yard to the shed. You followed him, a little nervous. "We have a bunch of brooms in this shed!" He explained. He looked back at you. "You do know how to ride a broom, right?"

You squinted at him. "Of course I know how to ride a broom, George."

He smiled again, and tossed a broom at you, you barely catching it. It was an older model, clearly worn from years of use. On the end, Fred had etched his name into it. You ran your finger over it, a sad smile spreading on your face. 

"Get over here, y/n!" George said, already starting to fly on his broom. "Let's take a little fly around!"

It had been a long time since you flew. You have never been the best at it and it's not like there have been many opportunities for a while. You took a deep breath, and kicked off the ground, and started floating in the air. George flew over to you, and gave you a high five. After another deep breath, you started to shakily fly next to George, feeling, for the first time since the war, truly happy. You two fly around the land near the burrow, careful to not be seen by muggles. The November air gives you a slight chill, but Fred's old quidditch sweater keeps you warm. The only time you remember George being as happy as he was when you were flying around was after he and Fred pulled off a prank. After an hour or so, you landed.

"I think you could be good at quidditch." He said, beaming. You laughed, and gave him a hug. You two held each other for longer than you ever held someone. When you two break apart, George softly smiled. "I see why Fred liked you so much, y/n." 

Happy tears pricked at your eyes, and you laughed a watery laugh. "One day at a time, George. One day at a time."


End file.
